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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314630">Living with Regrets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiHollis/pseuds/AlexiHollis'>AlexiHollis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Political Games, Politics, Pre-Canon, but also events would drastically change canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 09:07:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26314630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiHollis/pseuds/AlexiHollis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Azulon’s father raised him to live decisively, deliberately, and dauntlessly. A good leader made choices, a great leader made decisions and went from there. Great leaders did not look back at their past decisions and question what could’ve have been, they focused on what will be. Strength resided in dealing with the problems at hand, not stewing over the problems with which you already dealt, even if you no longer believed you made the best decision.</p><p>On Azulon’s coronation day as the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, two weeks after his eighteenth birthday, his father stood by his side above their people, where no one else could hear him:</p><p>“It is impossible to live without regrets,” he said as he looked out on the large crowd gathered for the ceremony, “but you must only have regrets with which you can live.”</p><p>OR</p><p>Lonely grandfather misses grandson he sent off to war, so he bonds with the grandson who is still here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azulon &amp; Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1165</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Living with Regrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Azulon’s father raised him to live decisively, deliberately, and dauntlessly. A good leader made choices, a <em>great </em>leader made decisions and went from there. Great leaders did not look back at their past decisions and question what could’ve have been, they focused on what will be. Strength resided in dealing with the problems at hand, not stewing over the problems with which you already dealt, even if you no longer believed you made the best decision.</p><p>On Azulon’s coronation day as the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, two weeks after his eighteenth birthday, his father stood by his side above their people, where no one else could hear him:</p><p>“It is impossible to live without regrets,” he said as he looked out on the large crowd gathered for the ceremony, “but you must only have regrets with which you can live.”</p><p>At the time, Azulon held his hands clasped behind his back and nodded slowly, as if he understood the words his father said. After all, what would the sheltered firstborn of Fire Lord Sozin know about life? About anything beyond what his instructors carefully introduced in scrolls and delicate lectures?</p><p>An old man in his mid-nineties, he better understood what his father meant all those years ago, as he sat on his dais in an all but empty throne room. He did not often get down time, especially as the siege of Ba Singe Se mounted upwards of four hundred days. Military men did not appreciate stagnancy, so he often found himself trapped in meeting upon meeting rehashing the same information to make them feel as if they achieved something new that day. Boring work, but necessary all the less, especially as he found himself less and less appreciative of the down time.</p><p>A little over a year ago, before he agreed to Lu Ten’s deployment and when Iroh insisted he return to the palace at least once a month in order to spend time with his only son, Azulon enjoyed the rare moments free of meetings or paperwork. Lu Ten seemed to possess a secret sense for the best time to ambush his grandfather and Iroh made himself easy to find thanks to his great appreciation for tea. They made the down time domestic in a sense Azulon rarely received in his over seventy years as Fire Lord, time he did not realize how sorely he would miss when they sailed away with promises to bring the Impenetrable City under heel.</p><p>In the early days of their absence, when Azulon found himself halfway to Lu Ten’s study room (a habit from Iroh’s deployments; with Lu Ten’s mother’s ashes scattered in the wind the same day of his birth, Azulon tried to make himself accessible to his grandson, even if he found himself fumbling without the help of his own beloved wife, a woman with an uncanny knack for children), he wrote Lu Ten a letter; he received back a status report. Azulon supposed it his own fault, he rarely wrote personal letters (could not actually recall the last one he attempted) so he certainly came off too formal, explaining Lu Ten’s response, but his heart still ached, just slightly, for the little boy he remembered all those years ago who prattled on for hours about childish delights.</p><p>Instead of attempting more letters, he found himself wandering Iroh’s section of the palace, taking tea beaks in Lu Ten’s study room and admiring Iroh’s vast collection of artifacts from around the world. In another life, he would have made a brilliant curator or archivist. As the days grew warmer, he ventured into their courtyard to feed the turtleducks or into the training area to meditate. Iroh and Lu Ten’s absence made these areas of the palace vacant, a servant rarely popping in to dust and never during Azulon’s visits, so it took Azulon by surprise when he entered the training area to find himself not alone at all.</p><p>He kept in the shadows of the colonnade that surrounded the area as he watched the young boy wielding dao swords in the center. Zuko moved through his stances with a singular focus, one that Azulon never saw during Ozai’s parade that always focused on the children’s bending, and a confidence that caught Azulon by surprise. Whenever he saw Zuko, admittedly rare due to his and Ozai’s…disagreements, the boy appeared as anxious as a rabbit-mouse, constantly in search of cover and escape. Here, Zuko radiated confidence and strength; if Azulon squinted his eyes just a bit, ignored that pain in his lower back that only made itself a constant annoyance in the past few years, he almost looked like-</p><p>The swords clattered to the ground and Azulon found himself looking at a much more familiar version of his grandson, kneeling with his forehead on the ground.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Fire Lord Azulon.” He never did appreciate how Ozai’s children insisted on such formalities.</p><p>“Get up, Prince Zuko,” Azulon responded. Immediately, Zuko scrambled to stand, grabbing at his swords so quickly Azulon almost winced in concern for the poor hand that went to clench around one of the blades, “Carefully!”</p><p>Zuko clearly didn’t understand what Azulon meant, moving faster and the hand went into almost a fist around the blade, clearly expecting the soft leather of the handle. Azulon watched as the sharp metal dug into the boys hand and was already within two steps of him by the time the sword clattered to the ground, Zuko’s yelp scaring a few firehawks perched in the tree in the corner of the yard.</p><p>“I said, <em>carefully</em>!” Azulon grabbed the hand that Zuko held close to his chest, small sniffles coming from the child. He kept his hand clenched tightly, the blood already welling between his fingers. “You need to let me see it, Prince Zuko.” Zuko slowly unclenched his fist, allowing Azulon to see gash: deep, but with clean edges. Azulon tsked, “We must get you to the healer. Come along.”</p><p>Azulon led Zuko through the passageways to the Palace Healer’s Quarters. The boy kept surprisingly quiet, despite the amount of pain Azulon could only assume his hand caused. When they got to the Healer’s, it was quick work of sitting Zuko down in a small healing room and having the Healer’s Apprentice clean the wound and the surrounding area of blood. It all seemed perfectly normal, reminiscent of a time Lu Ten achieved a similar injury when first learning how to throw knives, until the Head Healer, a somewhat portly man named Oro, walked in holding a jar Azulon recognized as containing burn salve.</p><p>“What happened this time, Prince Zuko?” Healer Oro asked, not looking at either Zuko or Azulon as he made his way to the small table in the corner of the room meant for the quick preparations of medication before application.</p><p>“I grabbed my sword by the blade on accident,” Zuko ears turned a deep red at his admission.</p><p>The healer’s eyebrows rose when he turned to Zuko and saw the cut. And Azulon.</p><p>“Fire Lord Azulon!’ Healer Oro immediately bowed deeply. “I apologize, I was unaware you were accompanying Prince Zuko today.”</p><p>“It’s no matter,” Azulon said. “I happened to be there when it occurred.”</p><p>“Of course, Fire Lord Azulon,” Healer Oro straightened before coming closer to examine Zuko’s hand. “I apologize, I figured this was a more typical visit for Prince Zuko.”</p><p>“A typical visit?” Azulon raised a thin eyebrow.</p><p>“I burn myself,” Zuko muttered, ear turning a darker shade and the color bleeding to the tips of his cheeks. “A lot.”</p><p>“In a manner typical of the incident today?” It was a <em>joke</em>. A poor attempt at a joke, Azulon would admit, but he did not mean to make Zuko look even more ashamed and humiliated than he did and he especially did not mean for the boy’s eyes, almost completely dried from the initial pain of the incident, to well up once more.</p><p>Before Azulon could attempt what was sure to be an awkward and stilted apology, Healer Oro interrupted, “Well, I won’t be needing any of the burn salve today, then, but you will be needing stitches. Do you want any numbing cream?”</p><p>Zuko shook his head to Azulon’s surprise, “No, thank you.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Azulon asked. “Getting stitches is not a…comfortable experience.”</p><p>“Thank you for your concern, but I will be okay, Fire Lord Azulon,” Zuko said, continuing to stare at the floor in front of him.</p><p>Azulon, though concerned, let the matter go as Healer Oro left. It did not take long for the man to return with a long, curved needle and silk surgical thread.</p><p>“Are you ready, Prince Zuko?” Healer Oro asked.</p><p>Zuko looked up and his eyes went wide at the sight of the needle, but he nodded just the same.</p><p>It was not the dramatic process that Azulon expected. Zuko allowed the healer to do his job, though he adamantly refused to watch; he kept his wincing to a minimum and kept his whole arm completely still. It did not take too long for Healer Oro to finish.</p><p>“There you go, my prince, Fire Lord Azulon,” Healer Oro bowed his head. “Keep these dry and return in a few days so I may remove them, all right, Prince Zuko?”</p><p>Zuko nodded, “Thank you, Healer Oro.”</p><p>“Of course,” Healer Oro smiled, then bowed before he left the room for the last time.</p><p>“Thank you for coming with me, I know you’re very busy,” Zuko kept his eyes on the clean row of stitches in his hand.</p><p>“Of course,” Azulon said.</p><p>Zuko continued, “And I’m sorry. For being in Uncle Iroh’s chambers, I knew I shouldn’t be.”</p><p>Oh, so <em>Iroh </em>received the familial friendliness of <em>Uncle Iroh</em>, but Azulon found himself regulated to the cold formality of <em>Fire Lord Azulon</em>?</p><p>“Do not apologize,” Azulon sighed. “I suppose you miss them, hm?”</p><p>Zuko nodded.</p><p>“Then you were in the best place to be. I find myself there sometimes,” Azulon admitted. “The palace is somewhat…lonely, with them both gone.”</p><p>“Lu Ten was teaching me how to use dao swords,” Zuko explained. “I wanted to improve while he was gone. And I have, I think.” Zuko looked sullenly at his stitched up hand, “Mom’s not gonna let me use my swords without an adult around, now.”</p><p>“Well, that would certainly be silly, considering you were doing perfectly well before an adult appeared,” Azulon tried his hand at humor again and, this time, it went over <em>much </em>better, one corner of the boy’s mouth turning upward in a half-smile.</p><p>Wherever Ilah was, he hoped she saw this now, he was not <em>hopeless</em> with children.</p><p>“However, if your mother does make that decision, I am not one to ever encourage a child to disrespect the wishes of their parents.” A bold-faced lie that Ilah would smack him for in regards to the heaps of trouble he allowed Iroh to get away with in his youth. “I would be willing to act as a supervisor when I have the time. I find Iroh’s courtyards quite pleasant, he has a sense for nature unexpected of a man of his military caliber, it makes them quite a lovely spot for a tea break.”</p><p>Zuko gaped at Azulon, speechless for many moment, before stammering, “Thank you so much for the offer, but I would never want to be a disruption-”</p><p>Azulon waved his hand, “With Iroh leading the army so brilliantly, I have far too much downtime. I’m afraid there’s just not much for me to do until that stubborn wall crumbles.”</p><p>“I’m not very good!”</p><p>Azulon did not agree with this assessment of the child’s sword skills, but “All the more reason that you must continue practicing, then.”</p><p>In all honesty, even during this discussion, Azulon did not know what drove him to fight to supervise Zuko’s sword practice. Whether it be chance or an interception by Agni himself, Azulon knew this moment changed everything.</p><p>As predicted by Zuko, Ursa did not, in the slightest, approve of the boy practicing his swordsmanship by himself, especially after an incident regarding stitches. When Azulon explained his willingness to supervise the boy, though, she still seemed incredibly hesitant, in a way that disturbed something deep inside Azulon.</p><p>He remembered, clearly, the trip to Ursa’s home village, Ozai in tow. A lovely day, Agni shined brightly as if to bless the proposed union. Azulon offered a generous bride-price, one the family could not turn down. If he tried hard enough he could remember the tense annoyance at Ozai’s refusal to go through a proper courting process, insisting they offer the bride-price and leave, requiring the need for such generosity; Iroh, on the other hand, courted his wife, Tenna, for so long it became a running joke between the two families that Azulon need only offer a single bead for Tenna’s parents to say yes. When he met Ursa, a strong-willed and proud teenager, Azulon immediately approved of Ozai’s choice (his annoyance grew, she deserved a proper courtship such as the one she clearly already entered with some local boy, but Ozai needed a wife and Azulon needed this <em>finished</em>). She looked Azulon in the eye when she spoke without a waver in her voice, but also smiled with abandon and clearly adored children from the way she interacted with her small siblings. Her family of strong blood and her own personality fixed her as the perfect wife and mother of a man of royal blood.</p><p>The woman standing in front of Azulon today did not match with the teenager he met those years ago. Ursa still stood tall and proud, but she appeared anxious and thin. Her hands fluttered about Zuko’s shoulders while she spoke to Azulon and she eyed him almost with distrust. After a few moments of conversation, she acquiesced, though she did tell Zuko to wait until the healer removed the stitches, a short ten days later. When Azulon went to return to a meeting, he tried not to think about his observations, but, for some reason, even as he ignored them his mind kept drudging up the day of Ursa and Ozai’s marriage.</p><p>It wasn’t long after Ozai’s marriage that the distance between Azulon and Ozai, never close in the way father and child should be, grew enormously. For some reason, Azulon could not help but remember looking into his son’s face on his wedding day and feeling suddenly very cold in a way he had only felt once before, decades before, the onetime an unsavory character snuck within the palace walls and Azulon, but only six at the time, woke to find himself staring at the man who wished to make himself the assassin of the Crown Prince. The guards prevented any tragedy from occurring that night, but Azulon remembered the feeling of ice in his belly.</p><p>When the ten days passed, Azulon found himself falling into a comfortable routine. His assistant, a woman of middling age named Tysi, would come up to him after his meetings if Zuko wished to practice. Azulon would then make his way to the same courtyard Zuko used that first days. Typically, Zuko would already be there, swords ready, sitting by the edge of the pond to watch the turtleducks. Off to one corner, a blanket and tea set sat ready for use, set up previously by a servant. There, Azulon sat and enjoyed his tea while Zuko went through his stances.</p><p>In the beginning of these practices, Azulon felt almost disappointed when the boy showed stiff, choppy movements, nothing like the fluid motions of that one day, but, over time, Zuko loosened. He became more comfortable with being watched and more confident. The first few times he stumbled in his practice, from pure lack of experience instead of a side-effect of holding himself too stiffly, Zuko’s attention snapped to Azulon, who turned his own attention to pouring himself a fresh cup of tea.</p><p>No need to point it out, after all, if Zuko already took note.</p><p>These short breaks, though, often remained completely silent. Other than a quiet greeting, Zuko said nothing, if not in reply to a direct question. Even when answering questions, he kept his answers succinct and soft, a stark contrast to his older cousin’s loud rambles. Azulon knew better than to compare Zuko to his older cousin, even in his own head, and tried to convince himself he was merely observing, even as his old heart panged slightly for the young man now at war.</p><p>Around two weeks into this new routine, Azulon sat primly on the blanket, drinking his tea as he watched Zuko move through the forms. He contemplated Zuko’s progress, his near mastery of his current knowledge, and wondered at why Ozai did not come to ask for an actual tutor for his son. Zuko broke him from his thoughts with a loud gasp and a drop of his swords.</p><p>Startled, Azulon put down his cup and stood as he watched his grandson scramble towards the edge of the pond.</p><p>“Prince Zuko, what are you doing?” He asked as he approached where Zuko laid sprawled on the ground, sticking his head in the reeds.</p><p>“Shh!” Zuko waved one hand back at Azulon, causing the old man to raise one eyebrow in surprise. Of all his relatives, he did not expect <em>Zuko </em>to be the first to <em>shush </em>him. Amused, he remained quiet, instead carefully kneeling next to the boy.</p><p>He looked in the general direction of whatever caught Zuko’s attention to see a carefully disguised turtleduck nest. Azulon leaned closer: not just any turtleduck nest, one with eggs just beginning to hatch. So far, only one of the eggs saw a crack of substantial size, a tiny beak just beginning to poke out into the world.</p><p>“Quite observant, Prince Zuko,” Azulon praised.</p><p>“I’ve been waiting for a few days now,” Zuko whispered, eyes fixated on the egg. “The ones in Mom’s yard hatched a little less than a week ago. I figured these were soon to come as well.” His eyes flicked to the mother turtleduck, swimming in the pond, but still close enough to keep an eye on her clutch. “You have to be super quiet though, or else the mother will try to bite you.”</p><p>“That always has amused me, given how little damage a turtleduck can actually do,” Azulon fondly remembered a young Ozai getting too close to a nest, once upon a time, and being chased off by the mother. He never did like turtleducks much after that day.</p><p>“I think its sweet,” Zuko said, voice still soft and almost…lost, in a way. “She knows there isn’t much she can do, but she’ll do as much as she can to protect her babies.”</p><p>Azulon never thought of turtleducks as much more than the creature that lived in the palace courtyards and earned the coos of many a woman. He did not spend much of his time thinking about weak creatures or the helplessness of being unable to adequately protect something or someone dear. He never thought of such things, much less gave them the softness and care that Zuko clearly did.</p><p>“It is sweet,” was all Azulon could think to respond.</p><p>Ilah would have known what to say, he thought, as the moment stuck with him for the next few days. She would have delighted in such words coming from someone so young, praised him for his care and weave it into some important truth about the nature of life. Azulon knew action, understood orders and structure, where Ilah knew words and emotion. <em>She </em>gave Iroh his inquisitive nature and insight into spirituality and, in the darkest of nights when his mind ran away from him, Azulon wished the world gave her more than the short four years it did with Ozai. In the light of day, he banished those thoughts from his mind; he did <em>not </em>regret the way he raised his sons, either of them. He may not get along with Ozai most days, but he could not live with a regret that involved him being the root cause of the issues he saw in the man.</p><p>Nevertheless, he instructed the servant to put out enough tea for two the next time he went to the courtyard and he waved Zuko to sit next to him, instead of practicing his swordsmanship.</p><p>“I have something for you,” he explained as Zuko sat down, careful to keep his feet of the blanket in a way Lu Ten never thought to at his age. Azulon decided not to focus on that, though, instead handing the book he brought over to Zuko. “It was your grandmother’s favorite. It tells the most stories in one volume of spirits from all over the world. Even a few from the Air Nation.”</p><p>“Really?” Zuko practically gasped at the last sentence.</p><p>“It’s a bit kind to them,” Azulon admitted. “Though spirituality does not always align with action. The Air Nation may have preached peace, even if they did not practice it.”</p><p>Zuko nodded, running his fingers over the gold letters embossed on the cover. “Thank you, but…why are you giving this to me?”</p><p>“Your grandmother was a remarkable woman,” Azulon said, looking out at the pond, “the best Fire Lady, and a talented mother. I see much of her actions in your own mother. She never did get to be a grandmother, but I have no doubt she would have excelled at that as well. I suppose this is my own way of trying to keep that experience alive in you. Ilah cited that book as a major influence on her own spiritual growth. I gave a copy of it to Lu Ten when he was about your age.”</p><p>Zuko opened the book, just to the first page, running his fingers along the edges.</p><p>“You can begin reading it, if you like,” Azulon prompted, pouring himself a cup of tea.</p><p>“But I’m supposed to be practicing my swords…” Zuko hesitated.</p><p>“I have no other meetings today,” Azulon said. “We have plenty of time.”</p><p>That was not necessarily true, per se. He did not have meetings, but it was more because he cancelled all the useless ones to allow him this time with Zuko. It worked out, though, as Zuko read the book and pointed out parts that caught his eye, be them tragic, intriguing, hilarious, or simply cleverly worded. He only finished a fraction that day, before moving on to his practice, but the new element became cemented into their routine.</p><p>Azulon did not know, even when he hunted down a copy of the book to give to Zuko, that the boy adored stories with a passion that rivaled the one he remembered in his own Ilah. At one point, during the chapter dedicated to the tragic love of Tui and La, Zuko’s posture straightened and Azulon looked over to see him rereading a page, over and over and over.</p><p>“I’ve read this before,” Zuko scrunched his nose, “But I’ve never read about these spirits before?”</p><p>“What seems familiar?” Azulon asked.</p><p>Zuko pushed the book closer to Azulon, pointing his figure at the lines that confused him, “ ‘Love binds us to the realm of mortals,’ I’ve definitely read that before.”</p><p>Azulon hummed, “Actually, I believe you’ve probably heard it before. Your mother’s favorite play is <em>Love Amongst the Dragons </em>if I’m not mistaken, correct?”</p><p>“Yea, we go and watch the Ember Island players perform it every summer,” Zuko said before pulling a face. “They always overact and make it all seem so silly. But what does that have to do with this line?”</p><p>“The person who wrote the play was trying to call back to this story,” Azulon explained. He remembered Ilah talking to him about this line, early in their courtship when he took her on a supervised outing to the theatre. He did not get a word in the rest of the day in her excitement, not that he minded. “It gives <em>Love Amongst the Dragons </em>another element, by showing that all the spirits who’ve fallen in love have then tied themselves closer to our realm. It claims that love does not exist in a pure form amongst the spirits; love is the only thing that humans have that is purely our own.”</p><p>Zuko sat in silence, jaw-dropped and staring with giant eyes, before finally, quietly, “That’s <em>so </em>cool.” And then, “I need to reread <em>everything </em>once I’m finished with this.”</p><p>Azulon was not sure what ‘everything’ meant, but he knew the look in Zuko’s eye well and sent a silent prayer to the poor tutors tasked with keeping his grandson focused in a study filled with books.</p><p>When Zuko finished the book on spirits, he began bringing books of his own choosing to the courtyard. The topics varied greatly, from the action-packed plays from the beginning of war time to the written folk songs of the Water Tribes, back when Fire Nation anthropologists made journeys to the poles to document the ways of life disappearing in the new age of technology and civilization. Zuko proved himself an astute child.</p><p>After an impassioned speech on the history of modern battleships, Azulon found himself wondering, “Have you considered going to school to become a scholar?”</p><p>The excitement drained from Zuko and Azulon watched his grandson all but deflate before him. Zuko shook his head, “No, Fire Lord Azulon, I am dedicated to becoming a soldier and fighting for the good of the Nation.”</p><p>Well, then. “That is an admirable goal, Prince Zuko. Our military would be lucky to have you.”</p><p>Zuko just nodded, not meeting Azulon’s eyes and fidgeting with the edges of the papers in his hands.</p><p>“Of course, the war is coming to a close.”</p><p>Eyes once on paper snapped to attention once again, looking suspiciously at the old man.</p><p>“Hopefully within the year, but <em>definitely</em> before you turn sixteen. And I only approved Lu Ten’s own deployment when he turned twenty.”</p><p>The suspicion grew.</p><p>“I’m afraid there just won’t be much action in the coming years and we do have so many of our men going into the military, nowadays. Who on Earth will be left to teach the new generations?”</p><p>The suspicion turned to the annoyance only displayed by a young child at an adult acting incredibly obtuse and it warmed even Azulon’s heart. At the same time, though, he appeared sullen.</p><p>“Father said I’m to be deployed when I turn thirteen,” Zuko said.</p><p>Azulon prided himself on his inability to be surprised or flustered. Fire Lord for too many years now, little fazed him, little shocked him, nothing left him speechless.</p><p>And this did not leave him speechless, just with only one word, “Pardon?”</p><p>“Father said I’m supposed to ask you to deploy me on my thirteenth birthday,” Zuko repeated. “To prove my loyalty to the Fire Nation. I can’t be a scholar.”</p><p>“I would <em>never </em>allow the deployment of a <em>child</em>,” Azulon felt as his inner flame boiled his blood. “Let alone my own grandchild!”</p><p>“But it’s my duty!” Zuko pressed.</p><p>“<em>Your duty,</em>” Azulon hissed, “is to grow up.”</p><p>“You sent Lu Ten!”</p><p>“Lu Ten is two years into adulthood, not five from it!”</p><p>And that was when Azulon came to himself and realized he was fighting with a child, his young grandson raised by his clearly-dumber-than-Azulon-<em>ever-</em>thought father. His grandson with eyes like his mother and mind like his grandmother and a nervous-disposition forced upon him by his father.</p><p>Azulon took breath, “Zuko. You are the grandson of the Fire Lord from his second-born son. You are unlikely to take the throne, yet you hold a higher social-standing than everyone in the world except a very few. You can become whatever you want to be. There is no <em>duty </em>holding you. I need you to know this.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“<em>Zuko</em>.”</p><p>Zuko went quiet. He turned partially away from Azulon, looking out at the pond where the baby turtleducks swam, a good deal larger now than their hatchling selves from weeks ago. “Is it…Is it really okay if I don’t want to join the army?”</p><p>“Yes, it is.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“And if I, maybe, want to be a scholar?”</p><p>“Only if you want to.”</p><p>Zuko nodded. “I think I need to carefully deliberate over this.”</p><p>Azulon wanted to chuckle at his careful wording, the same words Zuko clearly overheard from the end of one of Azulon’s meetings, as lately his grandson took to waiting outside the meeting room for his grandfather instead of in the courtyard. But even Azulon recognized a child desperately wanting adults to perceive them as mature, so he kept his amusement to himself.</p><p>“I believe everyone should more carefully deliberate over what they believe their destiny to be,” Azulon agreed.</p><p>Azulon liked to think destiny well as a fickle thing, though his own perceived one played out neatly. He inherited the throne from his father with little difficulty and fell deeply in love with a beautiful woman of his same age. From her, he gained a brilliant heir, one he delighted in raising and sent out into the world a more than capable General, one that made him proud every day. Thirteen years later, she gave him another son, a spare to ensure stability in the line. Azulon brought the Southern Water Tribe mostly under control and much of the Earth Kingdom. He intended to see his father’s dream brought to pass within his lifetime.</p><p>His dear Ilah’s destiny…</p><p>In her youth, she longed for the stage, delighting in all aspects of the theatre and being the center of attention. When their courtship began, Ilah tweaked her dream slightly: she wanted to write plays, bring her own stories to life. Azulon wished he could say he did more than merely smile and verbally encourage her passion, but he did not. It seemed the second Iroh stopped possessing all of Ilah’s time, Ozai came around and the cycle began anew, only to end suddenly not four years later, with Ilah leaving behind only bits of paper here and there with rough outlines and drawings of her stories. Azulon tried to piece them together, form one coherent piece, but it turned out helpless when he realized that she lived with at least a dozen stories floating through her at once.</p><p>He kept her writings and drawings. They lived in a special drawer in his office and he pulled them out now and again, when she felt especially far away.</p><p>He liked to believe she never regretted their marriage or either of their sons.</p><p>But, yes, Azulon thought he knew well of the fickle nature of destiny. Then, it dealt perhaps its cruelest blow of all.</p><p>He received the news early in the morning, just before what was supposed to be his first meeting (before he cancelled all meetings for the foreseeable future). One of youths that tended to the hawks appeared, quite suddenly, outside of his quarters, holding a scroll wrapped in the dark blue cloth that signified only the most dire of news. Azulon took the scroll calmly as his mind raced and revealed the letter.</p><p>A short missive, it detailed the events of the prior day. The breaching of the Outer Wall, what appeared like success, but then utmost tragedy. Lu Ten fell in the battle; he died heroically, the letter assured, trying to help a fellow soldier from under a boulder, a man younger than himself, when another crushed them both.</p><p> But what did it matter that he died a hero, Azulon found himself thinking. Lu Ten was dead just the same and Azulon felt suddenly very, very cold. In the back of his mind, he morbidly wondered if this was how the families felt when he gave pretty speeches about their loved ones bravely dying for their nation. He gave so many of those speeches and yet now found himself wishing Lu Ten, his brave, treasured grandson, held just a bit more cowardice in his heart.</p><p><em>And his son</em>. Azulon frantically read the rest of the letter, searching for news of Iroh, relaxing slightly when the letter explained that he was perfectly fine, though he did lead his men back outside of the wall. Azulon never thought himself able to accept such a loss, a surrender after six hundred days of siege, but his focus locked on the fact that his son was well enough to retreat.</p><p>The momentary relief faded, though, replaced by the sharp grief that brought an irritating prickly feeling to his eyes.</p><p>And then, “Grandfather!”</p><p>The word was startling, especially when coupled by the sight of a young boy who, for just a second looked so much like Lu Ten, barreling down the hallway. But, no, it was his other delightful, intelligent, beloved grandson who…</p><p>Had never actually called him grandfather before.</p><p>Zuko barreled into Azulon like a force of nature, wrapping his arms around the old man and clinging tightly while he buried his face in his grandfather’s robes, sniffling, “I just heard about Lu Ten.”</p><p>Azulon’s arms went around Zuko, holding him close, “Yes. I did, as well.”</p><p>Zuko looked up at Azulon, still clinging, “I came as fast as I could. I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”</p><p>Azulon smiled softly, “Thank you, Grandson. That was quite kind of you.” A moment passed as he held Zuko, running a hand over his soft hair. “Would you like to come with me to the Ancestors’ Garden to light the candles?”</p><p>Zuko nodded, “Yes, please.”</p><p>Azulon took a deep breath and then a step back, taking Zuko’s small hand in his and leading him to the center of the palace. The Ancestors’ Garden, a serene and beautiful place, mixed nature with beautiful plants and a small stream with smoothed carved stone and containers holding the ashes of those that came before. Candles in iron cradles hung from wherever they could: the beams on the colonnade, branches in the tree, the rail of the tiny bridge. Azulon lead Zuko around the garden, Zuko having never been there before as no family died in his lifetime before Lu Ten, lighting each candle in silence.</p><p>They sat in the center of the garden, as the sun began to rise, taking in all around them until the sun reached its highest peak and a servant came searching for Zuko, explaining that Ursa was looking for him. Zuko hugged his grandfather good-bye before leaving Azulon alone in the garden. Even alone, however, with grief still heavy in him, Azulon breathed easily enough.</p><p>Not long after Zuko left, Azulon returned to his own private study. He busied himself with only the lightest of work and drank too much tea. He returned to bed early and woke up late the next day, closer to noon than dawn.</p><p>Just after he finished dinner, a servant appeared.</p><p>“Prince Ozai requests an audience, my lord,” the servant bowed deeply, clearly uncomfortable with giving this news.</p><p>Azulon did not even want to imagine what Ozai wished to say at this time, but he only sighed.</p><p>“I will be in the throne room in ten minutes, tell him to arrive in fifteen,” Azulon instructed.</p><p>The servant scurried off with those orders and Azulon made his way to the throne room. On the short walk, it became clear.</p><p>Tenna died before giving Iroh another child. Iroh now lacked an heir where Ursa provided Ozai two.</p><p>As Azulon took his throne, it became clear to him. He could not, under any circumstance, allow the throne to pass to Ozai. He refused.</p><p>Ozai arrived, early as always, with his wife and children in tow, Zuko wearing completely different clothes from earlier and looking as nervous as he did that first day in the courtyard.</p><p>Azulon barely heard Ozai’s greeting, losing interest as he began parading Azula around like some trick leopard-pony. Of course he favors Azula, Azulon grumbled to himself as the girl showed off her admittedly skilled bending, she’s exactly like him in every way. Therefore, Ozai was too narcissistic to see any flaws in her, such as her blatant disregard for the element she claimed mastery over.</p><p>“Enough, Ozai!” Azulon finally said after the hundredth question directed at his children regarding Fire Nation history (questions only answered by Azula while Zuko looked downright terrified by everything around him). “Say what you need to say. Your display is inappropriate at best, and downright disrespectful at worst.”</p><p>“Father, believe me, I know that our family has suffered a tremendous loss,” Ozai said. “But I warned about this circumstance after Tenna passed and Iroh refused to remarry. He has no heir to inherit the throne, while I have two <em>living </em>children, healthy and strong as can be.”</p><p>“And what do you suggest?” Azulon challenged.</p><p>“Make me the Crown Prince. I will ensure the continuation of our family’s legacy. My wife still lives, I can have even more children as a safeguard.”</p><p>“You suggest I strip my first-born son of his birthright?” Fury took over Azulon. “After the death of his only child? A child that died serving our nation the way you never chose to, yet wanted to throw your own son into on his <em>thirteenth birthday</em>?! I will not, because, unlike <em>you </em>Ozai, I know the importance of family, of children.”</p><p>Azulon shook his head, looking at Zuko and Azula. Perhaps she could be saved…</p><p>She would challenge Zuko…</p><p>“No, I will not strip Iroh of his title.” Azulon said, his voice steady, as he stood to make his proclamation, eyeing the scribe in the corner to make sure he took his notes diligently. “I am removing <em>you</em> from the line of succession.”</p><p>He could not take her from the succession…</p><p>“From this day forth, you will be living on Ember Island. Ursa, I request you return to your family home with your daughter, as I am forbidding Ozai from interaction with any underage person in line for the throne.”</p><p>Not legitimately…not with all these unprecedented actions…</p><p>“As now second-in-line, Zuko will remain at the Palace to begin his studies as future Fire Lord.”</p><p>“Father-!” Ozai sputtered.</p><p>“Guards!” Azulon called. “Take Ozai to pack. Have a ship readied to leave by nightfall. Ozai is no longer a prince of the Fire Nation, merely a member of the royal family.”</p><p>The distinction emboldened the guards, making them less afraid to grab Ozai by the upper arm to force him out of the throne room when he tried to protest.</p><p>Ursa gaped as the guards dragged off her husband. “Fire Lord Azulon…”</p><p>“I am not asking for your family to return the bride price,” Azulon assured.</p><p>That would just be cruel.</p><p>“Though as of now, in the eyes of the Fire Nation, as the primary caregiver of Azula, you are no longer technically married to Ozai. You may do as you wish.”</p><p>Ursa, clearly stunned, held tightly to her daughter’s shoulders, Azula also looking beyond lost. “But, my son, Zuko-”</p><p>“You may visit,” Azulon said. “And Zuko may visit you. I simply believe that a bit of distance between these two,” he gestured between the children, “would be for the best. Azula took too much of a shine to Ozai and that must be corrected.”</p><p>He watched as Ursa’s inner struggle turned in his favor. Ursa saw the same dangers in Azula that he did, what path she already headed towards.</p><p>But <em>she </em>had hope.</p><p>“I will ensure he writes frequently,” Azulon promised. “And you will never go too long without a visit. This is for the best, Ursa.”</p><p>Go quietly, Ursa. Do not make this more difficult than it will already be.</p><p>“I do agree, Fire Lord Azulon,” Ursa sighed, looking at her daughter. “All right, young lady, I guess it’s time for us to go pack as well.”</p><p>“I don’t <em>want </em>to go!” Azula started. “Why does stupid Zuzu-”</p><p>“Azula, packing, now,” Ursa interrupted, turning the girl towards the door and pushing her out gently. She paused for a moment, turning her head to look back at Azulon, “It won’t take long and we will only need one carriage.”</p><p>“I will have it prepared.”</p><p>The entire time, Zuko stood to the side, silent as he watched his family leaving. The door shut behind and, with the scribe off to change the succession line and inform the Fire Sages, they stood alone in the room.</p><p>“Zuko-”</p><p>“You gave me Lu Ten’s birthright,” Zuko said. “Why? Why didn’t you make Azula the next in line after Uncle? You already broke a million rules of succession today.”</p><p>“Because the Fire Nation does not need Azula as a Fire Lord. The Fire Nation needs you, when you’re ready to take the mantle, hopefully many years from now.”</p><p>“But Azula-”</p><p>“Zuko, do you trust me?” Azulon asked.</p><p>“Of course,” Zuko said.</p><p>“Then trust that I know what I am doing.”</p><p>The rest of the day went by in a whirlwind, organizing Ozai’s boat and making sure all the information got where it needed to go. Ozai’s ship left without any ceremony, while Zuko stood, eyes misty, as the carriage was packed. Azulon watched from the sidelines as Zuko hugged his mother and waved at his sister who sat stubbornly inside with her arms crossed, refusing to look at the palace.</p><p>Such an unpleasant child. Exactly like Ozai. Nothing more than a liability.</p><p>Ursa climbed in the carriage and off it went. Zuko bounded up the steps to stand by his grandfather, watching the carriage leave.</p><p>“Are you alright, Grandson?” Azulon asked.</p><p>Zuko nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s like you say: destiny’s weird sometimes.” He looked up at Azulon, “Mine just got <em>really </em>weird today.”</p><p>Yes, destiny was weird.</p><p>It was weird in the way that Ozai’s ship got blown off-course in clear weather, the tiny vessel running into the path of a pirate ship. Weird in the way that the ship sank, silently, with only one casualty in the form of former prince Ozai.</p><p>It was weird that Ursa replied so stiltedly to her son, letters formal beyond belief and always putting off his visits until he stopped asking (Azulon comforted his grandson as he dealt with his mother’s abandonment, Zuko finally stopped writing entirely and it took years for him to go to his mother’s village, to find the ash that laid there).</p><p>It was weird in the way that never once did Azulon look at his crying grandson and feel badly. Not when he cried for the loss of his father, not when he cried over the abandonment of his mother, not when he cried because his sister never wrote him back once, not even overly formal letters.</p><p>Because Sozin raised him to live decisively, deliberately, and dauntlessly. He taught Azulon to stand by his decisions and his actions.</p><p>But he also taught him to take the opportunity to correct a past error if it arose.</p><p>So Azulon did.</p><p>Zuko grew into a fine young man. Smart. Well-spoken. Confident. Powerful. Iroh returned from his jaunt around the world, not to a palace panicking about succession, but to an heir as capable as Lu Ten. To Azulon’s delight, the two proved to get along quite well, disappearing for hours at a time and Iroh taking Zuko’s education into his own hands, the way Ilah did for him so many years ago.</p><p>The years passed and the war raged, but Azulon remained confident. Admiral Zhao proved a capable military man with a fascinating plan against the Northern Water Tribe, capable enough that it made Azulon comfortable to keep his, now quite small, family safe within the confines of the palace (though Zuko often complained about never seeing outside the palace walls, but he remained an easy child in regards to obedience).</p><p>He worried little, confident in his life’s path and the near success of his father’s life goal.</p><p>Then, the Avatar returned.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Its very important to me that even when I write Azulon fluff, you still remember the guy's a war criminal. and has got some twisted morals.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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